There are few things more maddening than observing a highly intelligent person demonstrating absolutely zero common sense or sensitivity. There’s just no excuse. With so many brain cells to spare a few of them should be firing to signal:
“Warning, WARNING…you are acting stone–cold crass, callous, obtuse, cretin-esque!!” (I could have used more profane, colorful descriptors but my mother raised me to be a lady).
To whom am I ascribing the bold-faced Jane Austen-esque adjectives? A colleague who was one of the few I mustered the courage to haltingly acknowledge my infertile state to — on the heels of her lengthy recital of secondary infertility. Not only did I not get all hissy-fit-like and debate her about the heartache of primary vs. secondary infertility I even introduced her to the acupuncturist who had helped me achieve great follicular and endometrial response, but sadly nothing more.
She succeeded where I didn’t. While that took grace and composure to accept, I didn’t anticipate the sucker punch she inflicted in her joyful disregard, her “aren’t you excited for me?” reveal of her pregnant state — completely overlooking how that news even in the best of circumstances might adversely affect me. Cutting her still more slack I attributed her self-absorbed announcement to the temporarily overpowering release of hormones.
Did it ever occur to her that I might still have some lasting personal pain in the wake of my failure? Hell, no! That would require engaging the heart — something she’s proven time and again that she clearly lacks.
Such a contrast to the very pregnant woman who lives Monday-Friday directly across from me in the office. This angel not only made a point of respectfully, gently disclosing her pregnancy to me weeks before anyone else knew as a courtesy … so I wouldn’t have to hear it second hand or wonder about her changing shape … she has gone out of her way ever since to be deferential and not try to engage me in small talk about her “magical pregnancy” experiences. Bless her….
Has that stopped others, though, from stopping right outside my door to engage in endless pregnancy riffs and “new parent” bonding to the point of making me positively ill? Hell no. (Don’t these people ever g.oogle me?! Clearly not.)
This evening as I attempted to finish up a project who shows up but obtuse Hi-IQ girl. She planted herself just outside my closed door talking obnoxiously loud (think “outdoor voice”) to Angel girl — who seemed intent on ending the conversation — about her favorite pregnancy experiences and the must-have new mommy gear for no less than 20 minutes. Despite the tight seal around my glass door Hi-IQ girl’s voice had no trouble penetrating the glass, and torturing me in the process.
How close did I come to throwing my door open with a bang to ask if there wasn’t more room in the kitchen to carry on this mommy recital? THIS close. Seriously, my discipline and willpower are exemplary. Never was a woman more deserving of getting a book, shoe or wireless mouse thrown at her with the intent to do harm…
Lucky for her I was able to control my Irish temper. What it comes down to is this. She’s not worth wiping my boots on. And I can’t help but find some satisfaction in knowing that Karma will catch up with her sometime soon. Sadly, I might not be there to see it happen.
So, given the tempting target, what would you have thrown ?